Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun (25 page)

We had no real time to gather and plan a new assault, just catching our breath for so long as we thought the tower might hold. They were getting the feel for the cannons, or perhaps had some new leadership, and the melee continued beyond our walls. As chaotic as the situation was, we were fairly certain we were not winning that conflict. The tower wasn't going to last much longer either, even if we could get more of our troops to it. After a very brief exchange, Miss Coltrane re-entered the battlefield to support our troops and to draw attention back outside. We fired a couple more of the cannons to try to draw fire to them, then abandoned those stations. Eddy and Matthew took up a new sniper position at one corner of the tower, while I re-gathered some of the muskets and spears, and moved to lead a new assault on the main gates, once it became clear we weren't going to hold our position much longer.

The hope was that we had divided their attention enough, between fighting the fires of the far tower and trying to retake this one – or at least keeping up the wall of musket fire to make sure we wouldn't be able to take the fortress from there – that the main gates would be left vulnerable to a quick attack. The renewed assault and reappearance of Miss Coltrane and the suit surprised enough of our enemy that we were able to make progress towards the main gates, with Eddy picking off cannon crews, but no advantage was going to last long.

To our surprise, as we approached, the main gates opened, and Wyndham's engine, now mostly repaired as well, surged onto the field, accompanied by yet more troops. The enemy rallied around it, partly as a point of pride and morale, partly simply so as not to be mowed down, for Wyndham showed no more care for their contingent of Maori than last time we fought his machine. Miss Coltrane and Wyndham used the opportunity to exchange fire. Miss Coltrane took the worst of it, reeling, but not falling. She was pushed back towards the tower once again, presenting a clear target.

Wyndham charged, some troops diving out of the way, others of both ranks caught under its treads as he gained speed and momentum. Unable to get her legs under her enough for a leap, Miss Coltrane tried a new tactic. Using the wall to brace herself and lifting the suit's good arm over her head, she then brought it down on top of Wyndham's machine as it crashed into her.

I do not know if it was by some plan, or simply opportunity, but though Wyndham had, again, the best of Miss Coltrane, having her trapped between the engine and the partially broken tower wall, her fist had begun to open new rents in the armor. She slammed her fist down on the same spot again and again while he tried to crush her against the walls. A rifle shot fired, with a distinct clanging off of the armor of the machine. That was apparently enough to get Wyndham's attention, and he started to back away.

I saw the machine starting to pull away, then heard another crack of rifle fire. This time there was no sound of armor, and I had to assume Eddy had found his mark. The engine veered, and I could scarce imagine Wyndham's thoughts as a bullet ricocheted around inside the machine. I could only hope he'd been injured, but whatever else, it wasn't fatal, because the engine continued in its retreat. It was, however, clearly not intended to be driven backwards with any control, because instead of escaping cleanly, it smashed into the walls, trapping itself temporarily.

Miss Coltrane advanced, with the suit looking like some sort of terrible hunchback, every motion raising a terrible grinding noise. Still, she was able to move, and one arm still worked, lifting to smash down on Wyndham's machine again and again. All the while, his wheels spun, further damaging the fortress walls while digging for traction. Sadly, he did finally find some, tearing forward, sending Miss Coltrane staggering as the engine lurched out into the field, heedless of whom it ran down in trying to escape. Eventually, it managed to turn, going right over more Maori on both sides, and narrowly missing my own position. From there, Wyndham managed to retreat back into the fortress, damaging the gates as he passed through them with less than perfect precision.

Much slower, but surely tasting victory, Miss Coltrane limped after it, with a wave of troops following. Though our foes still had numbers, and thereby killed many of our allies as they went, the defeat of their supposedly impregnable battle engine clearly had disheartened them. In a less desperate time, I would have had more thought to the lives of our troops, sought some other strategy and approach. For now, with our little communication and this new spirit, for good or ill, life or death, we charged.

Amidst this rush, trying to reach their gates before they could close them behind Wyndham, I finally found a familiar figure, dressed like no other on the field and bearing significant burns. No matter her state, Miss Bowe scaled the enemy fortress walls past all of our fighting, having either fought or snuck through the enemy ranks to reach it. She used her knives to climb – having, it turned out, left the damaged ornithopter behind – stabbing into the wood and pulling herself up, hand over hand, scaling rapidly.
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She reached the top of the wall, killing a cannon crew, and raced for their gates. She cut down the keepers before they could complete closing the gates.

With that assistance done, she disappeared behind their walls once again, leaving us to fight our way to the opening, even as our enemies moved to try to hold the gap by manpower, now that fortification would no longer serve. Miss Coltrane reached them, sweeping away a wave of men from before her and leading the charge. While the suit was obviously badly damaged, spears and muskets were still not enough threat to slow her down. Even so, with Maori war clubs against the joints of her armor, and risk of lucky shots, we knew she would need all the support we could give her, and quickly.

With the Maori guard following, I managed to fight my way to her position, cutting down the enemy until we reached the gateway. At that chokepoint, all momentum halted, and the field devolved into chaos again. Our spearmen fought well, but one after another fell. Our muskets lost their guard, and our line began to collapse. I was grazed by a near shot, but managed to keep my feet and my gun, though I ended up having to use the butt of my pistol as a weapon more than once. Eddy did his best to help us with sniper fire, but with the tower now under full assault, he and his troops had all they could handle just holding their tenuous position.

We were reinforced by Miss Penn's troops, reestablishing our line, though soon it was only a few dozen of us between muskets, spears, and our own number. Somehow, it was enough to let us break through their lines and begin advancing again. Some miracle of momentum and Miss Coltrane took us to within sight of their central building, where we could see some frenzied motion and their moored airship. Miss Coltrane, however inadvisable, charged again, trampling over enough troops that we were able to follow in her wake. Without her providing cover and brief respite, we would have been lost, especially now that we were quite surrounded. Her charge took her into the wall, cracking it, but the impact also buckled her leg.

As if he sensed the vulnerability, we saw some part of our enemy at last. The Moroccan
, Ualu, emerged from their central building with a guard of his own, ordering them forward to join the melee and shouting commands in the Maori tongue. Seeing a foolhardy opportunity – and guessing where Sir James might be – I raced for Miss Coltrane, shooting down three men as I went. With only one shot left, I climbed her suit. For a moment I thought she was going to strike me down, but instead she seemed to notice who I was. She pulled herself to her feet.

Finishing my climb, I found myself on the roof of their central building. Miss Bowe was engaged with both the Spaniard and Aiden Reilly. Though she was showing no capacity for defeating both men, she was weaving, parrying, and dodging between them, retreating slowly and drawing the pair away from the ladder to the enemy ship.

They had not permitted any of the Maori there, and both of the mercenaries on guard there were enraptured with the fight. I managed to come upon them quietly enough that they did not notice me, though with the battle, I may well have been able to run. I struck one down with my pistol butt, finally drawing the other's notice. Conserving my final shot, I caught him in the face with another strike, kicking him once to the throat to be sure he stayed down and could call no warning. Tucking my gun in my belt, I began the long climb, praying I would not draw notice.

I reached the enemy airship and made my way to the area Miss Bowe had described without opposition. I kicked the door open, quite surprising York and his governess, both near Sir James, who was as badly injured as I have ever seen a living man. Battered, bruised, and bloody, his hair and beard grown wild – but when he saw me, recognition and a new fire dawned in his eyes. I shot York at once, though I caught him only in the shoulder. I then managed to turn the pepper-box once and bluff the woman into backing off.

I should certainly have made sure to kill York while I had him, but I was not sure how long I had before he or Miss Gardiner called my bluff. Dissimulation has never been my strongest suit. I kept her back just long enough to draw a knife and cut Sir James free. He tried to stand – and ended up leaning heavily upon my bad shoulder. Still holding back the woman (as well as a mercenary who had come at the noise without drawing his gun) we made our way to the ladder.

The next event I have had described to me enough that I must believe it. The Moroccan, seeing his advantage and giving his dispirited men new fear to push them into us, came forward until he caught sight of Miss Penn. All accounts swear she did nothing but glare at him while shouting in Romany, but something certainly changed, for his composure turned to a terrible fright. He turned and ran from the field at the sight of her.

I saw Ualu fleeing towards the ladder as I had only begun my way down with Sir James, and both the Spaniard and the Irishman were fighting their way backwards to the ladder. They were too coordinated together, with too much reach, for Miss Bowe to finish either one, but she drove both back. Fumbling to climb while holding off fire with an empty gun, with three deadly men coming up, I did the only thing I could think to do. Shielding Sir James with my body, I let go of the rungs and fell backwards to the roof. The wood held, but only barely. My ribs mostly held, but something certainly broke, and my injured shoulder went entirely lifeless.

Sir James still moved and breathed, and though they hesitated, the enemy did not come back for him. Miss Coltrane was clambering onto the roof on one side, and Miss Bowe moved to defend Sir James and me. Ramirez and Reilly took the opportunity to begin climbing the ladder instead of challenging her further. After scaling high enough to come into Eddy's line of sight, Reilly shook violently, and a bloody wound appeared at one side of his back, but he did not fall. Eddy swears he hit him perfectly, but his strength was apparently enough to keep him climbing.

They pulled their same trick as before, releasing their ropes with rifles and black powder, leaving most of their forces in the field. York and his main crew were escaping, with Wyndham's engine suspended beneath it, tied on, but not fully loaded, making the flight that much more awkward. We hadn't captured them, but despite all odds, we had them retreating with their tail tucked between their legs.

Had they kept on, the enemy would certainly have crushed us in time. We had lost too many, were rapidly running out of reloads, and had too few defenders. The remainder of our force was mostly in two knots, one desperately holding Eddy and Matthew's post atop the tower, the other with us retreating into the main building, setting guns at every window and preparing to sell our lives dearly. However, the sight of their demons in full retreat had an immediate and obvious effect on enemy morale.

Miss Bowe, Eddy and our own warchiefs had slain many of their leaders. It is possible they also didn't realize how few of us still stood. Regardless, they began to retreat from the field, scattering at every chance and leaving us the fort. The fighting went on for a time afterward, but enemy numbers thinned further and further as we killed those with something left to prove. Miss Coltrane's leg gave out only minutes after we were no longer fighting at our post. When our post was sufficiently clear, Miss Bowe led most of our remaining men to finish rescuing Eddy and Matthew, pushing the enemy there into final retreat.

For all the hours we fought, it is eerily silent as I write this now. Eddy has refused to rest. He is doing a great deal of the work in aiding Miss Coltrane as she drags herself back to the ship on one leg and whatever support can be made. Miss Bowe and Miss Wright are seeing to the ornithopter. Those warriors of three tribes who lived are going through the bodies, though I do not know if it is for plunder, to claim their kills, to finish off enemy survivors, or to seek signs of family. As mighty as the two warbands were who clashed today, there are frighteningly few survivors. Most seem proud of lasting out this victory, likely ensuring that so long as their alliance holds, they have forged survival for their tribes. I have heard the same words repeated between them over and over, enough that I finally asked Miss Penn what they meant.

I do not know if now I should feel honored or saddened by what these people think, that they would be proud that some divine thing has been wrought. For she says that they have finally decided we are certainly not devils, leading them to a final death. They have acknowledged that we must soon return to the skies, for though they jest in part, having seen us bleed and fall like any man of them, they have taken to calling us the Gods of the Sun.

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As a medical doctor, I must state that the thought of an 11-year-old boy and a barely recovered stabbing victim loading and firing a cannon is terrifying. There are so many strains and breakages possible to permanently hurt the human body. War is horrible, certainly, and should be avoided. It most certainly should be avoided by those who are not able bodied. It is a sign of both their desperation and skill that these two not only attempted the feat, but succeeded. -C B-W